Nelson Mandela

The day 12.05.2013 the end of great leader, politician, and great human.

Name – Rolihlahla Mandela (He also called as Tata)

Birth day – 18 July 1918

Political party – ANC (African national congress)

In his life he faced to many challenges. He is fight against white leaderships to get freedom to black peoples in South Africa. In other word he is a antiapartheid leader in South Africa.I can write that incidents in Mandela’s word. From his life reveal Mandela’s humanity at its intense. It shows the human being in him. He is a son denied access to his mother at her dead bed and a father deprived of attending his son’s funeral.

Some of sensitive situations in Mandela’s life in his words is below. These things happen in dark years of his life (it means at 27 years in the imprisonment.)

Time may seem to stand still for those of us in prison. But it did not halt for those outside. I was remained of this when I was visited by my mother in spring 1968. I had not seen her since the end of the rivonia trial. Change is gradual & incremental. And when one lives in the midst of one’s family, one rarely notices differences in them. But when one rarely notices differences in them. But when one doesn’t see one’s family for many years at a time, the transformation can be striking. My mother suddenly seemed very old.

Several weeks later, after turning from quarry, I was told to go to head office to collect a telegram. It was from makgatho, informing me that my mother had died of a heart attack. I immediately made a request to the commanding officer to be permitted to attend her funeral in the Transkei, which he turned down. “Mandela,” he said, “while I know you are aman of your word and would not try to escape, I cannot trust your own people, and we fear that they would try to kidnap you.” It added to my grief that I was not able to bury my mother, which was my responsibility as her eldest child and only son.

A mother’s death causes a man to look back on and evaluate his own life. Her difficulties, her poverty, made me question once again whether I had taken the right path.

During this time I experienced another grievous loss. One cold morning in July 1969, three months after I learned of Winnie’s incarceration, I was called Robben Island and handed over a telegram. It was from my youngest son, makgatho, and only a sentence long. He informed me that his elder brother, my first and oldest son, Mabida Thembekile, whom called thembi, had been killed in a motor accident in Transkei. Thembi was then 25, and the father of two small children.

I turned to my cell and lay on my bed. I do not know how long I stayed there, but I didn’t emerge for dinner. Finally, Walter came to me and knelt beside my bed, and I handed him the telegram. He said nothing, but only held my hand. I do not know how long he remained with me. There is nothing that one man say to another at such a time.

I asked permission the authorities for permission to attend my son’s funeral. As a father, it is my responsibility to make sure that my son’s spirit would rest peacefully.

I thought back to one afternoon when thembi was a boy and he came to visit me at a safe house in cyrildene that I used for secret ANC work. Between my underground political work and legal cases, I had not been able to see him for some time. I surprised him at home and found him wearing an old jacket of mine that came to his knees. He must have taken some comfort and pride in wearing his father’s clothing, just as I once did with my own father’s. When I had to say goodbye again. He stood up tall, as if he were already grown, and said, “I shall look after the family while you are gone.”

These things help to show his humanity and show his great leadership.

You can enjoy with another article soon…..

Guest Writer  - S.S